


Be the Serpent Under't

by Saucery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Constructed Reality, Could Be Considered Meta, Creepy, Crossover, Cultural References, Dark Character, Dark Lord, Dark Magic, Diary/Journal, Drama, Dreams, Enemies, Ficlet, Flirting, Ghosts, Ideology, Intelligence Fetish, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Manipulations, Memories, Mind Games, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Random Shakespeare References, Recruitment, Riddle!Peter, Romance, Seduction, Snakes, Souls, Strategy, Villains, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Gryffindor ventures into the Chamber of Secrets... in his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be the Serpent Under't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1001cranes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001cranes/gifts).



> I couldn't help myself.

* * *

 

"Perhaps," the writing appeared on the page, spiked and elegant as always, "I ought to show you."

"Show me what?" Stiles whispered, despite the silencing charm around his bed, but the diary didn't respond. Instead, Stiles felt a pull towards it, much as he would towards a Pensieve, and then he was falling in, and -

And he was in an underground chamber, dank and musty and echoing with the dripping of distant water and the more present slithering of scales.

 _Scales_. That -

That was a snake, a bloody  _massive_  snake -

Stiles stumbled back, reaching for his wand, but it wasn't there.

"Tut, tut," said a cool, amused voice, and a figure emerged from the shadows behind one of the pillars, the slight figure of a boy with a shock of black hair and uncanny, glittering blue eyes. He was in a seventh-year Slytherin uniform, complete with green tie. "You're in a dream, Gryffindor-child. A dream of my weaving. You'll find no help, here. Of course, because I'm civil, I promise you'll find no hurt, either." The boy's eyes swept over Stiles's body, and his mouth quirked. "None that you won't enjoy, anyway."

Stiles ignored that last statement. It wouldn't do to lose his temper over an idle threat. Or flirtation. Or whatever that was. "You're - you're the one from the book."

"Or the book is from me. Don't pretend to be less clever than you are, Stiles." The boy walked around Stiles, his snake following him in a hissing circle. "My name is Peter, by the way. Peter Hale. But you knew that, didn't you? Tell me, how long has it been since you discovered the location of the orphanage I was abandoned at?"

"I don't know what you're - "

"Don't you? How boring. I was hoping you'd drop the act. That you'd face me as a... not as an equal, since I  _am_  the Dark Lord, but - "

"You're not."

"Beg pardon?" Peter's tone took on a menacing edge.

"You're not. The Dark Lord. Not yet."

"Hm. And you thought to befriend me, did you? Charm me with your - admittedly charming charms?" A quiet giggle. "Well, it worked. You're here. A dream within a dream. Talking to a Horcrux. To a bit of the Dark Lord's soul."

Stiles swallowed around a dry throat, but soldiered on. He reminded himself that in this place, Peter couldn't  _really_  hurt him. (Could he? All the research indicated - no, stop. This was no time to theorize.) "I didn't mean to... deceive you."

"Oh, you did. You really, really did. That's what makes you so  _interesting_. So Slytherin, even." Peter let the snake wind up his leg and across to his arm, like a morbid fashion statement, although it must be heavier than a thousand fur cloaks. Then again, this was a dream. What did practicalities matter? "Did the Sorting Hat offer you a choice of Houses? It did, didn't it?"

"That's none of your concern - "

"Everything about you is my concern. You've  _made_  yourself my concern. Or have you forgotten night after night of conversations by parchment? Sympathies shared? Woes unburdened? Terrible childhoods commiserated over? You were quite convincing, actually; it took me nearly a month to figure out that you were attempting to disarm me at least as much as I was attempting to disarm you. Seduce you, to be honest." Peter smirked. "Tell me, did it work?"

Stiles flushed.

"It's only fair that you admit to the truth. After all, I did. I find you absolutely fascinating, both as a conversational partner and as the source of my potential demise - "

"Not  _yours_  - "

"Is that what you tell yourself? That it isn't me, but the Dark Lord you plan on killing? He  _is_  me, you foolish boy. Or rather, he will be. Was. Is." Peter huffed. "Time has no meaning, to souls. Even less so to fragments of souls."

"You're - you're a part of him, and if - "

"If what? If you make me see the light, I'll let slip how to destroy him? Or perhaps even volunteer the information? Just how much of what I want are you willing to give me, to that end?"

Stiles suppressed the shiver that ran through him at how avid Peter's expression was, how hungry. "Whatever I have to."

"Heavens, Stiles, what on earth are you doing in Gryffindor? That House of bumbling idiots?" Peter tapped his chin. "No, wait. It's because of McCall, isn't it? The young werewolf you studied so hard to become an Animagus for, so that you could be with him through the change? You couldn't possibly leave him alone, could you? Merlin alone knows what trouble he'd get himself into."

"If you talk about Scott," Stiles stated, his words as jagged as carved stones, "or  _to_  him, or interfere with him in any way - "

"Interfere?" Peter chuckled. "That sounds rather..."

" - I'll kill you."

"You will, won't you?" And Peter looked delighted, which... wasn't the effect Stiles had been going for. "Or you'll die trying. Very well. I'll lend you my ear, friend, Roman and countryman. But only if you lend me yours."

Stiles gaped. He had, occasionally, wondered if it might come to this, but to have it openly declared... "Are you - are you suggesting that we try to convince  _each other_  that we're right?"

"Winner takes all. And I do mean _all_ ," Peter murmured, giving Stiles one of his once-overs, again. Then, Peter held up a hand, palm up. "If you convince me that what the Dark Lord is doing is wrong, you get my cooperation. Against myself. It's just as unlikely as it sounds." He held up another hand. "Or, I convince you that what the Dark Lord is doing is  _right_ , and you join our cause."

"There's a third option."

"What, mutually assured destruction? Yes, there's always that. But, like I said, boring."

"You're insane."

"Don't tell me you didn't know that." Peter shrugged; the snake curled around his neck, its blue-tinged tongue flickering in the air. "I'm not a  _total_  madman."

"Yet."

"You keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Stiles stared. "Did you just - "

"Hm. Didn't expect that, did you?"

"I didn't expect to be recruited for some kind of - of weird chess-game of ideologies - "

"But you did. I told you to drop the act, Stiles. It's most unbecoming." Peter paused, then shook his head, holding out his arm and allowing the snake to slither back onto the floor, slinking past the pillars. "I apologize. That was inaccurate. It's  _most_  becoming, but I'd prefer a little... nakedness, from time to time."

"Stop that."

"Stop flirting with you?" Peter stepped closer, and closer, still; Stiles refused to flinch. Peter leaned in, his all-too-convincing breath warming Stiles's ear, and said: "No."

Stiles raised his hands to push Peter off of him, but despite being, for all intents and purposes, a  _ghost_ , Peter still managed to grab Stiles's wrists.

Peter's smile was far too pleased. "Knight to E5," Peter said, and kissed him.

Stiles stood there, seething, calculating, and finally parted his lips.

"Good boy," husked Peter, when he pulled away. " _Very_  good."

"If this is how you want to play it, then - "

"Oh? Did I say it was a game? That was all you. I'm utterly serious."

Stiles scowled, refusing to be taken in. He knew the bastard's ways. "Doesn't it worry you, at all, that I'm out to kill you?"

Peter shrugged. "If you weren't capable of being a danger to me, you wouldn't make a worthy ally. I like strength, Stiles, in case you hadn't noticed. And purity of purpose. Both of which you have. In spades." His fingers cradled Stiles's jaw, stroking it. "We're not so different, you and I."

"Yeah, right," Stiles snorted. "Peas on a pod, we are."

"We  _are_. That's what I brought you here to convince you of."

"You'll be convincing me forever."

"Will I?" A strange gleam lit Peter's eyes. "I can't say I'll mind."

 

* * *

**fin.**


End file.
